Miracle Survival Thanks Deana!
by Lucifer2
Summary: Frank Donovan fiction (of course). Kidnap situation. College grudge/crush/Twists/he lives by impossibility
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer for all chapters: I do not own any of the UC characters - least of all Donovan.  
This is my first UCU fiction. Thank you all for reading it.   
  
"Boss," Alex called out as she walked in the door. "There is a woman on the phone. She says it's emergency."  
  
Frank put away the file in hand - the one about the case the team just finished. He was reviewing the details, retaining as much information as he could, as he does to every case.   
  
He picked up the phone, "Donovan."  
  
A desperate, shivering, yet controlled voice filled his ears, "Frank? This is Rene Amis. I need your help. My daughter has been kidnapped and I need your help! Please help me. Please, Frank."  
  
Frank frowned. The profile of this woman passed through his head quickly. Rene Amis was his college classmate. The two were never more than familiar acquaintances. They have not seen each other until Rene recognized him several weeks ago in New York. He recalled who she was merely because of his extraordinary memory that can organize everything into data. It was no surprise that they recognized him - he was too well known in college.   
  
They touched up, had couple of dinners since then. But when the case came up, he forgot about her.   
  
Rene was competent even in the school Frank went to. A beautiful girl, intelligent and with many admirers, some of whom were Frank's friends or supporters. In Frank's recollection she was always very confident, proud, and decisive.   
  
Now she needs help.  
  
"Where are you?" He asked.  
  
"I am coming toward your building right now. Are you going to help me?"  
  
"Yes."   
  
"Thank you." 


	2. Phone call

"I have been trying to get a divorce." Said Rene, holding the cup of coffee Monica gave her. "It turned out that he (Frank understood it meant Neil, her husband) could not handle it. Do you understand the situation without my having to tell you all, Frank?"   
  
Frank nodded, slightly frowning. He truly understood. The wife obviously earned more money than her husband, although Neil was a brilliant fellow - at least in a classroom - and a lawyer, as Frank was told. The domestic financial issues definitely did not help on the relationship.   
  
"Thank you, I knew you could."   
  
Frank barely raised the corners of his mouth, symbolizing a smile. He thought about the case. A father abducting his own daughter to preserve a marriage - how ridiculous! Yet how tragic! From what he gathered, Neil would not hesitate killing the young girl either because he knows that the daughter is not his or he has cheated himself into believing it.   
  
The news about Neil's demented behavior surprised Frank. Neil, a smart guy who loved to play basketball and was assistant captain to Frank. Neil, the intellectual who adored Rene and helped her on differential equations and computer programming. Neil, the happy bridegroom, anxious and nervous.   
  
And now, he has kidnapped a 2-year-old girl, Iris Amis. He has called Rene to inform her that much and that he would call her later.   
  
There was no evidence where he and Iris were.   
  
He looked pensively at Rene. The woman was very beautiful, and looked 27 when she was actually 31. She obviously loved Iris to death; their fate seemed to link, and hearts attach. Despite her controlled manner, she was stressed out.   
  
  
Rene's cell phone rang. Frank delivered a look to Cody, who came in with Jake to hear the story. Cody understood and went immediately to his computer. Jeez, he thought, what has the world come to?   
  
Rene picked up her phone anxiously. "Rene here."  
  
"Hello, my dear." Neil's voice came through.  
  
"Neil, what have you done with Iris?" Rene demanded.  
  
"Still so authoritative! I was hoping that you thought about me. But oh no, you were thinking about Iris, that little illegitimate."  
  
"Stop this, Neil. There is no hope for our marriage. Why don't you just give up?"  
  
"No hope, eh? Tired of me after five years. Whose arms are you in now? Frank Donovan?"  
  
"This is between you and me, Neil."  
  
"I see. Can you swear on your little girl's life that you are alone in the house? Or are you with Donovan?"  
  
"Neil -" Rene clenched her teeth.  
  
"You can't swear, can you, my dear? Don't want to curse Iris. Don't worry, I understand. After all, Donovan is the top notch in everything, was, and still is, although I bet I earn as much as he does without so much risk."   
  
"You're absurd!" Rene shouted, losing patience.  
  
"Absurd?" Neil laughed on the other side. "After Iris, no suspicion is absurd. Besides, Donovan is very handsome and strong and capable, isn't he? I've done my homework. I always do, my dear."  
  
"Neil, where is Iris?"  
  
"Woo, impatient, are we? You don't control the board, my dear. Right now I want to discuss Donovan, and I will."  
  
Rene was furious, but remained silence.  
  
"So Donovan is there, with you. Perhaps holding you in his lap? Wiping away your tears of fear? What a romantic picture I have in my mind! You have driven me quite mad, quite. I would have preferred for you to call the cops, the FBI, the private detectives hungry for your money. But you have called Donovan, of all people! You know what, tell your Donovan that I am in the empty warehouse where the elevator is defective. It used to be a dating ground. I am sure that you know. Also, tell him to come alone. Don't you dare come with him! I am a very jealous man, Rene, like the God who created us."   
  
Frank was putting his black jacket when Rene closed the cell phone. He approached and said quickly, "I assume that you know exactly where he is. Now tell me." 


	3. Neil

Frank parked his car a block away from the warehouse. He knew the place; another classified case took place close by about two years ago. The building was two storages high, with wooden floors and a miserable-looking staircase.   
  
Frank dropped his cop air. There was no point. Neil was a Yale bachelor -same year as himself and Rene - and a Harvard Law School graduate.   
  
He stopped at the doorway and stretched out his arms. "Neil!" He yelled, "Come out! I know you can see me and I am not holding a weapon."   
  
"Of course you are not, Donovan." Neil appeared like a ghost, pale, wearing a dark blue coat and pointing a gun at Frank's chest. "You are not that foolish."  
  
Frank dropped his arms. "How many men do you have, Neil? And tell me the truth."  
  
"Sharp boy!" Neil exclaimed. "That makes the game fun."  
  
"I don't want to repeat my question."   
  
"No? I've got 7. And you have none."  
  
Neil was right. Frank didn't let his team come despite the team's desire and worries. He knew that Neil would have the necessary precautions. Besides, this was not an official case given by his superiors. He would not let his team get too involved.   
  
"So where is Iris, your daughter?" Frank asked calmly as if they were one on one.  
  
"You know very well she's not my daughter." Neil almost hissed. "But the little girl is on the second floor. You can't get through to her."  
  
"Let her go. I'll stay."  
  
Neil narrowed his eyes dangerously. "What makes you think I will consent, Frank Donovan? We are not on equal grounds for negotiations."  
  
"We are not?" Frank remained impassive.   
  
"You're bluffing." Neil said confidently. "I'm a lawyer, Frank. I know the tricks."  
  
"Then I am bluffing. It's your judgment, after all." Frank held his ground.  
  
Neil narrowed his eyes again. His long, thin fingers were rubbing his palm. Who's nervous now?  
  
"You are bluffing." Neil repeated, "It will not work, Donovan. It will not work!" He directed his gun to the left and fired.   
  
Frank tensed, but did not move an inch. The bullet brushed by his arm, leaving a small trace of blood.   
  
Neil smiled. "I knew it. You are bluffing."  
  
"Whatever you wish, Neil." Frank said. Was there a teasing tone beneath his voice? The air grew more and more suspenseful. Neil didn't like the change.  
  
He stared into Donovan's eyes, trying to detect the truth. Donovan's eyes were too bright; it hurt.   
  
Frank could see the gun shake as the man's confidence gave way. He was winning the staring contest. As for how he would get out… well!  
  
And at this moment, another man walked down. He was tall and skinny, wearing a pair of sunglasses that covered most of his face. Stretching to his neck was a visible scar. Hideous.   
  
The man walked down in a slow step that cautioned Frank. Instincts told him that the man was not to be underestimated.   
  
"He's bluffing, Amis. Get a grip on yourself. Go upstairs and take care of that little bastard child. You never know, that dark-skinned child may be his." The man nodded toward Frank's direction.  
  
Neil turned sharply around. "You are not mixing with this business, partner."  
  
The man laughed loudly. "Sure, man. It's just I wouldn't want to see you so cheated. Didn't your woman have a crush on him ever since, what, nine years ago? Ten years ago? More than ten years ago?"   
  
"Shut up." Neil yelled.  
  
"Sure, man, sure." The man laughed again and continued, "She doesn't love you, man. Wake up! Or, rather, look at this man before you. Look at him!" He almost, in a way, forced Neil to look at Frank. "He's as young as you are; he was the president in college; he was the captain; he was top of the class. Sure he didn't go to Harvard like you did, but he has a career in the Department of Justice, doesn't he? Head of the unit for all you know. Man, wake up! I hate to see you so deceived. Your wife, beautiful, eh? But is she faithful? Did she ever love you? I wouldn't know. But you would, right? Sure. So wake the hell up!"  
  
As the man went on in his speech, Frank did a careful analysis of him. The man was obviously educated, street-trained, and very persuasive. And the man came for him, specifically, but without telling Neil what or why. Frank recalled his cases that might suggest who this man was but the list went way too long. If the man came for revenge, Frank knew two things: 1) he's in big trouble; 2) he'd better have patience and endurance.  
  
Neil did not answer. His face was cold and pale, his gun shaking visibly.   
  
The man took the gun from him and walked up to Frank.   
  
"Do you know me, Agent Donovan?" He smiled. A crooked smile.  
  
If Frank wished for a slow death rather than a quick one, he had better exasperate the man. Frank looked straight into the man's face, not disguising the disgust and contempt. "Of course I know you," he said, after some observation, "you are an idiot."   
  
The man grinned with clenched teeth. The scar became horribly twisted. "Very funny, Agent Donovan." He held the gun against Frank's chest.  
  
"Neil," Frank called out, ignoring the man standing in his face, "Let the girl go. I swear on my honor that I have nothing to do with Rene. She is your daughter; you don't want to kill your own flesh and blood."  
  
"My flesh and blood?" Neil grinned, walking up. "I have blood type AB. Rene has type A, so you tell me, Donovan, how come 'my' child has blood type O? According to genetics, it's impossible."  
  
Frank sighed secretly to himself. He knew it was impossible even from his high school biology course. O comes from two recessive alleles. AB type had no recessive allele. A DNA test was not even needed to prove that Iris and Neil were not related.   
  
"You, on the other hand," Neil continued, "have O type blood. Plenty of O alleles to pass down, eh? The ONLY type you could pass down."   
  
"I already swore that I have nothing to do with Rene." Frank repeated.  
  
Neil looked at him. Then suddenly he drew a tiny blade out of his pocket and stabbed Frank on the chest. After burying it into the body, he took off his hand, leaving the blade in.  
  
The other man took the gun off Frank's chest, watching with a frown. "Damn it, man, I don't want a dead Donovan!"  
  
"I don't want him alive!" Neil shouted, facing the man, who in one step grabbed his collar and yelled into his ears, "I need him alive! He's very useful to me. Don't you dare forget that if you are going any further with this."  
  
Frank felt a tearing pain as the knife ruptured his lung. His right hand reached for the handle as he struggled to remain standing. He gasped for air but coughed blood instead. Blood tasted warm and salty in his throat, a nasty flavor that was familiar to him. His head was reeling, but it caught the last part of the sentence: "going any further with this." How much further could Neil go? Perhaps he was thinking of abducting Rene as well? A flood of pain went sweeping through his head. He could not see the two men clearly, but he knew that they were distracted from him. Best opportunity to draw your gun so far, Frank! He released the hold on handle and with a great effort, took out his gun.   
  
He leaned heavily on the door and pointed the gun at Neil.   
  
"Let the girl leave, Neil." He said with a weak but deep voice - the best he could summon with limited oxygen take-in.   
  
Both man turned to face him. The man grinned at Neil, "Quite an opponent. A stoic, too."   
  
Neil sneered, "Brutus's cousin." Turning to Frank, "But you know the most about Brutus don't you? Wrote thirty pages on Shakespeare's heroic image paper and got an A-. The entire class was jealous. Put the gun down, Donovan. You can scarcely keep it up. You can't pull the trigger."   
  
Frank maintained his position and smiled slightly, "Try me." He felt the friction going away as cold sweat filled his palm. But he held on. Thanks goodness for the door to lean on.  
  
The other man grinned at Frank. "It wouldn't work, you know, because, look -"  
  
Frank's head screamed "no" as an explosion sounded off. He and Neil both fell to the ground. Difference was: he was still alive; Neil was dead.  
  
"Troublesome boy anyways. Way too emotional" The man said, shaking his head with a grin. Then, turning to Frank, he snapped his fingers. "Couple of you move this guy upstairs!" 


	4. The Nest

A few hours later, the Nest received a phone call from a different man, who informed them that Neil was dead.  
  
"Neil is dead?" Rene exclaimed incredulously. "Frank has been injured? And this guy, who on earth is he? Oh my, my…" She finally broke down crying. She had been so confident in dealing with Neil, who obviously still loved her despite her infidelity. Besides, there was Frank to rely on. And now Frank was captured and wounded; she felt helpless. And Iris, would they release Iris?  
  
From the phone conversation, Rene found herself against an even mightier enemy than Neil. This man was ruthless, crafty, apathetic, and obviously dead against Frank. The team agreed that he had come for revenge, but that gave them too many possibilities. The voice on the phone sounded mature, like a man in his thirties.   
  
He had warned seriously against the team taking any action. The man gave a detailed physical description of each of them and said that he had all the police profile pictures as well. As soon as one of his camera in the area detect one police going his way, he would shoot Iris and Frank both, "maybe not to death."   
  
The triumph in his voice angered all the team members. They knew where Frank was but simply could not reach him. They even had to call the police department to warn them not to go anywhere within half a mile of the place. Jake and Alex practically threatened the policemen, who were in the beginning very whiney.   
  
Monica did psychoanalysis, as usual. Her judgment of the criminal made Jake groan out loud: the guy was dangerously serious about every word he uttered.  
  
Rene felt more than sorry. She buried her face in her hands and sobbed. Alex patted her shoulder, "It's not your fault, Rene. Don't worry about boss. I know he would help even if you haven't asked."   
  
"Yeah," Cody agreed, "we just finished one case and he simply couldn't wait for another one. (Pause) I mean, he always survives anyways, just to come back and torture us, you know." He tried to chuckle but the sound died very soon. The situation was too grave even for his humor.   
  
  
(Author's note: I certainly wouldn't leave out Frank in this chapter, right?)  
  
The man watched his people carry the semi- conscious agent upstairs and dragged Neil's body into a corner himself. Then he walked up the staircase, upon which Frank left a trail of blood.   
  
A guy went up to him cautiously. "What should we do with the cop, Mr. Gatille? He looks pretty bad. I mean, he's probably gonna die soon."  
  
Mr. Gatille - as he was addressed - glanced at him with disinterested eyes. "Take him to the examination room, take off his shirt, and wash off the blood with warm water. I'll be there in a second."   
  
"Are we giving him some of that painkiller stuff, sir?"  
  
Mr. Gatille looked at him more intently this time. A malicious smile crept upon his lips, "No. He doesn't need it."   
  
"Sure, sir." The guy started walking away, but turned back as Gatille gave further instructions, "Take the girl to where he is. Guard them carefully. The man is dangerous."  
  
The guy nodded.   
  
Gatille thought about the upcoming operation. The second one after he dropped out of Harvard Medical school. 


	5. Nursed

Frank was not completely unconscious. His major source of pain came from his chest, not his head, which was merely muddled. When the guys moved him and up and apparently unto a bed, his wound throbbed horribly and he fought to stay conscious.   
  
"I know who the man is," he thought, concentrating all of his energy on remembering, "I've known him from some years ago, when I was still with FBI." A list sprang into his head. "Anthony - drug dealer, Beta Organization - anarchists, Camilio - drug dealer, Caven - smuggler, Disco - drug dealer and a gangster, Dubus - a hired assassin related with the infamous physician case…" He shut his eyes tight as concentration became harder to keep. "And that major hostage case with the prominent Gatille family. My last case in FBI…"  
  
His thoughts were interrupted by a sense of coolness on his skin. Someone had taken his shirt off, with some effort and pain on Frank's behalf. Due to the clotting of blood, the shirt was stuck on the skin while the wound kept on pouring out blood straight from his lung. He coughed, inflicting a splitting pain, and tried to cough as slightly as possible. Blood welled up in his mouth and flowed down the corner. A warm, wet towel wiped it immediately away.  
  
"Mr. Gatille wants all the blood off the guy, Miss Merrill." A voice said, sounding distant to Frank's ears.   
  
"Yes, Gen, You've told me that already. I understand." A young, female voice replied coldly.   
  
Gen nodded respectfully. This Miss Merrill was important to Mr. Gatile. He had better not mess with her at all, although she's blond and beautiful and all that. Gen had an intelligence quotient below normal, but some things he did understand.   
  
The warm water felt comfortable, but the lacerating pain increased with every stroke of towel. Frank clenched his fists, trying not to move away from it.   
  
Merrill frowned impassively. She motioned two guys standing at the door to come over and hold Frank down. The two obeyed quietly.  
  
"Lung puncture, serious business. What is he delaying for? Does he want this Donovan dead?" Merrill muttered as she sighed at the sight of profuse bleeding. The water has been changed four times already, each time a crimson mess. "He's lucky that Neil had a thin, short blade. The damage is severe, but not fatal - if he stops bleeding and receives proper treatments." Merrill thought aimlessly, looking at Donovan's face without realizing it. She knew Gatille to be very smart, even though he was practically forced into Harvard graduate school by his family. He was wild, although he was scared when taken hostage. He was vengeful and bitter, although the situation left him with nothing but a scar. As for Donovan, she knew about him, too. Born out of the country, English was a second language, a great student, a great agent, and a great team leader. Which one of the two would survive this? Donovan? Probably not. He was wounded and alone. Besides, why would she want him to survive? She was with Gatille, who she thought was a genius.  
  
"Darling, you shouldn't be doing this yourself." The alarmed voice of Gatille woke her up. He stood at the door, looking at her face, then her hand, then back to her face. Suspicion lurked like a serpent.   
  
He stepped forward and grabbed her wrist gently. "I don't want you to approach this man, you understand me?"  
  
"You don't need to be like this, Robert." Merrill shook her hand free, as if annoyed by his paranoia. "I have more skills in nursing, that's all."  
  
"Sure. I know that, darling. After all, you went to Georgetown School of Nursing and Health Services. I can recite your transcript. But I don't want you near Donovan. He's too dangerous."  
  
"Sure." Merrill remained nonchalant. "Take over."  
  
"Don't be upset with me, Merrill. You know how I get mad when you are upset with me." The scar on Robert Gatille's face twitched.   
  
"Sure. I am not upset." She moved away. "Call me in when you need me. And I'll take the girl away from here."  
  
"No. Leave her here. You stay with me; make sure that she doesn't bother me. I hate to be left with children. That's what women are for, anyways. Right, darling?"   
  
Merrill didn't answer. 


	6. Negotiation

The examination took over an hour. Gatille was no respiratory system specialist or a certified surgeon. But he did manage to stop the bleeding and hurt Frank through careful probes and alcoholic application.  
  
Merrill watched nervously throughout the process. She wondered how Frank managed to faint only once - for only about five minutes - and not to cry out. Twice or thrice she had to wipe the sweat from Gatille's forehead, acting as a head nurse. Wiping sweat and blood from Donovan was almost useless considering how frequently one had to do it.   
  
Iris was sleepy, although she was too scared to fall into dreams completely. Frank was aware of her presence, and muttered her name once or twice, trying to say something but couldn't.   
  
Two hours after the examination, Frank was completely conscious.   
  
His chest was bandaged tightly. Breathing was slightly easier. He moved his hands and found them handcuffed to bed poles on either side. He opened his eyes and saw a thin, blurred figure in front of a half-broken window. The room was semi-dark. "Evening," he judged, "Already evening."   
  
The figure turned around when he stirred. He motioned for Merrill to take away Iris.   
  
"Hello, Donovan." Said Gatille.  
  
A ray of light shone on his face. Frank's memory flashed. "Robert… Gatille."  
  
Gatille grinned, looking at him coldly, eyes sparkling. "You recognize me, Donovan, the agent reluctant to rescue me. Oh you don't need to explain the situation," he said, despite the fact Frank didn't wish to explain anything, "I understood it perfectly. I was a fallen kid, expelled for disciplinary problems. I failed my family's expectations. I was on the street for over two years. But I was also an hostage!" At the last sentence he grew so loud that Iris cried. Merrill quickly covered the girl's mouth.   
  
"I think we need to leave." She said, getting up.  
  
"No!" Gatille yelled. "Stay. Give me the little wench."  
  
"Robert!"  
  
"Merrill, give me the little wench, now."  
  
Frank stirred on bed. He tried to raise his body.   
  
Gatille took Iris in his arms and held her close to the bed. Iris struggled, "No, hurts. It hurts." Her childish words spurted out.  
  
Frank took a slow breath, making sure that he could talk. "Robert, let her go. She has nothing to do with you."  
  
"Nothing to do with me, but something to do with you." Gatille grinned. "Your daughter or not, you care about her."  
  
"It has nothing to do with that, Robert!" Frank felt desperate about sending Iris out. The girl was too young. His exclamation sent pain up his brain. He coughed terribly, blood colored the bandages red.  
  
Gatille pronounced something horrible. "Don't you play this game with me, Donovan. If you wish to die, I would gladly kill you myself, right now." Frank smiled in his mind. He got Gatille, somehow. "Then kill me, Robert. What are you waiting for? After all, I ruined your future. I put the scar on your face. I turned you into this ugly monster, kidnapper, child-hater."  
  
Robert's hand went up his throat. Frank felt cold fingers like those of death, only defeated. "Don't try my patience, Donovan. I warn you, don't -"  
  
"Shut up."  
  
"What?" Robert narrowed his eyes in disbelief.  
  
"Shut up."  
  
"Donovan! -"  
  
"You fool." Frank's speech was deliberately slow, sharply contrasting the one of Gatille. "What are you holding the girl for? You know you are not going to come out of this so you want to drag her down with you, when all you want is me? What type of a smart kidnapper are you?"  
  
Merrill was shocked. Her eyes widened in bewilderment. Even she didn't dare to talk to Gatille in that way. Somehow she summoned up Frank's death image.  
  
Robert knew it was a trap. Frank was using a negotiation technique that's not too diplomatic. But it was working, and he could not fight against it.  
  
"Merrill, give me the phone." He released his grip on Frank. He'd show him, that captive lying on the bed, bargaining. He'd show him that he's going to win with or without Iris.   
  
Merrill threw a glance at Donovan while giving Gatille the phone. How did the man do it?  
  
Frank was relieved after listening to Gatille's conversation with the team. Gatille was delivering Iris to a nearly parking lot - after threatening them not to show up until midnight, of course, so his men could get out. Robert was intelligent, obviously, but like Neil, "way too emotional" when it comes to pride issues.  
  
A thought came across his mind then: wasn't he the same way? 


	7. Rene

The team bought coffee together. It was going to be a long night. One of them had to stay up at all times.  
  
"I wonder how is boss right now." Said Cody, lying on the sofa, looking at the ceiling.  
  
"Me, too, Cody." Monica nodded. "You know, he's cold, but he's always been caring toward us."  
  
"Not to mention he's got the skills and the guts for this job." Alex added.  
  
All of the rest nodded.   
  
"Is the pick-up for Iris arranged?" Asked Jake. Damn the man. How did he manage that negotiation? Even Monica was surprised, although she came up with an explanation: emotional distress for the criminal. Yeah right.  
  
Alex answered his question, "Yes. They are sending an entire team out to the parking lot. The shop manager has been notified. The least we can do for boss."  
  
"You guys remember the first day we saw him? Gosh, that was some personality clash." Cody recalled with a grin.  
  
"I sure do." Said Alex, glancing at Jake.  
  
"And the way he told me to check out the criminal?" Monica gave a small laugh, "I thought I was going to get fired!"   
  
"He sure walked a different path than we did." Cody said, shaking his cup.   
  
Rene remained silent on the side. She had cried when she found that Iris would be released. But now she suddenly felt no joy. Neil was dead. She didn't love him. But after all, he had been a good husband. As for Iris's father… she sighed. She didn't love him, either. But the child was hers, the thing that solely belonged to her.  
  
And now she was coming home! But Frank? He was wounded seriously, held captive by a powerful man. The worst about the entire thing was, however, the fact that none could go in and rescue him! The computer would automatically identify each face and send an alarm sent in to the criminal, who would shoot Frank. She knew the system. Her lover, after all, was one of the best private detectives in the state. How ironic that he had sold the security system to Neil and had given the child to her.   
  
But Frank!   
  
Frank!!  
  
Her head was exploding. She needed to do something.   
  
An idea jumped out like anything.   
  
She spoke. The team listened. They fell silent.  
  
"I don't know." Cody jumped in first. "Boss may kill us after he gets out of this mess! I mean, you are not even an agent for the government."  
  
"That's why they are not going to identify me. I can do this."   
  
"What type of gun can you shoot comfortably with?" Asked Jake.  
  
"Jake!" Cried Alex. "We're not even agreed on whether she should go there at all! It's too great of a risk. She's untrained…"  
  
"I do know how to shoot a gun, Agent Cross." Rene interrupted, "Iris's father was a detective. I know the tricks."  
  
"But you have no experience." Said Monica. "The thing is: you need to understand the difficulty and the danger of your going in."   
  
Rene was firm. "I do understand. And after all, you guys have no control over my actions. I can go right out the door and you can't stop me one bit."  
  
Cody and Monica exchanged glances. She had a point. She was determined to do this. No use trying to stop her. The only way was to help her in any way they could.   
  
"Okay," Said Monica. "You're going in, but only after Iris has returned."  
  
Rene agreed. That was reasonable. Besides, she wished to do that, too.   
  
"By the way," Cody said, with great embarrassment and caution, "Sorry for prying. But what was this thing with your lover?"   
  
Rene smiled, understanding the curiosity, and began telling her story 


	8. Frank

It was 11:00 P.M.  
  
Gatille had sent Iris to the parking lot and have been smoking for about an hour.  
  
Gatille regretted it the minute he sent Iris away. He cursed his stupidity at having done exactly what Frank wanted him to do. His captive was a fanatic in some way, a kind of fanatic hero obsessed with saving people at any cost using any method. "At least I still have Donovan." Gatille's face twitched, "He cannot escape from my hands, not as long as he's got that lung puncture."  
  
He went quickly up, ascending three staircases at a time. His men understandingly dodged him, seeing the brooding storm upon his eyebrows.  
  
Merrill met him at the door. "Robert, what's the matter? Haven't you …"  
  
"Sent the bastard away? Yes. Now I want to talk to Donovan about our past little business, the time when he refused to pay MY ransom." Gatille spoke through clenched teeth. Merrill could sense the hatred and the anger.  
  
"He can't talk." She went in after Gatille, "He went unconscious soon after you made that phone call. He has a high fever."  
  
"Body temperature?" Gatille went to Frank. The man's lips were parched and his breathing was shallow and rapid.   
  
"39.5 degree Celsius." Merrill answered, watching Gatille's face. "It might be an infection due to lack of air circulation, soiled bandage, bacteria on the knife, or simply mental or emotional stress."   
  
"Stress. Grand excuse. How convenient, just when I was about to torture him with guilt, shame, hopelessness, and fear." He took off the cuff on Frank's right wrist and counted the pulse, which was usually fast and beating irregulars. "Bring me water, bandages, and alcohol."  
  
Merrill knew his intentions only too well.   
  
Gatille took off the old bandages and frowned. The chest wound was red, swollen, and burning hot. The movements caused it to bleed again; the blood was dark. Dirty.  
  
Gatille carefully cleansed the skin around the wound, and then applied alcohol straight. The sting greatly intensified Frank's body and he winced, hands clutching at the sheets.   
  
"Robert, he obviously needs more than alcohol and external care. He needs surgery, blood, and medication to get well." Merrill found herself protesting against Robert.   
  
Wasn't he the one she admired? What was she doing being so rough with him?  
  
Gatille's eyes turned sharply toward her. "I know that, darling." He said in a soft tone that could shudder Merrill to death. "But you see, I can't take him anywhere. Isn't that right? Sure. Sure. You're just worried that I won't get my revenge. Sweet darling." He grabbed her neck, lowering it for a touch of lips.  
  
Frank stirred.  
  
When he was first wounded, he still had a goal to accomplish: saving Iris. The thought had created energy and stamina inside his body that fought against everything until the task was completed. And when it was done, Frank sank into relinquish. The injuries soon took hold of him. His mind wondered from his team to college to Neil's fall and always went back to the scar on Gatille's face.  
  
He did not give Gatille the scar. Yes, when Gatille was taken by the gang he hung out with, Frank insisted that his father should take extreme caution in negotiating the terms. Instead of a siege-like threat, as in most of the hostage situations, Frank went in alone and found that Robert Gatille's life meant very little to the gang. Gatille was distrusted all along.   
  
When Frank took out the gang's leader with a single shot in the head, the one holding Gatille down used his knife.   
  
That knife created the scar. But Frank shot too quickly. Gatille escaped in a flash, not even noticing that Frank's bullet had killed the man who hurt him.  
  
And now, what kind of revenge was this? What a mess? 


	9. Crush

"In college, I had a huge crush on Frank." Rene confessed, smiling.  
  
"A crush on our boss," Cody remarked, shaking his head, "An effort wasted."  
  
"Hey!" Monica pushed him, scolding his implied insult to Rene. She kind of agreed with Cody, although Rene had what it took. But Frank Donovan the Agent adoring a woman? Not within the range of their imagination. From what they've seen from Frank, the guy will remain a bachelor for life, even if girls come crawling from ends of the earth.  
  
Rene did not mind. "Cody is right, actually. He never asked me out."  
  
"What about the dances?" Alex asked.  
  
"I don't know if he went to any. Maybe he was too busy. Or maybe he was just disinterested. Some people jokingly called him a monk."  
  
"That's not too bad," Said Cody, "There are nastier names than that."  
  
"Yes there were," Rene laughed a little, "But no one dared to go past that."  
  
Jake sighed. Alex stared at him. "What I want to know" he said, " is how long did your crush last?"  
  
Cody pointed at him, laughing silently: That was a good question.  
  
Rene brushed a streak of hair from her face. She smiled lightly and thought about the answer. She had thought that the crush ended when Neil proposed, or better, when she took herself the lover. But ever since she saw Frank again she realized that she had never gotten him out of her head. Did the crush persist for almost ten years? Or was it not a crush in the first place? After all, Frank was the reason she got that detective as a lover. The detective was of Israeli descent and was dark and handsome. At first sight, she thought he was Frank with a few changes. When they were together sometimes, she thought this substitute was exactly like Frank.   
  
"I don't know how to answer you, Jake. It seems that I was never quite over that crush." She said finally.  
  
The company fell silent. "So, what was the lover thing?" Jake asked.  
  
"He was almost like Frank. Have you ever read 'Thorn Birds'? It's almost like why Meggie married Luke when she couldn't get Ralph. My lover was a private detective. He was active, intelligent, dark, handsome, but far more accepting towards women."  
  
"Of that one can be sure of." Muttered Cody, staring at his empty, cold cup.  
  
"And he didn't like children." Rene continued, "So I broke up with him. It's that simple. He lives now in Pennsylvania I think."  
  
"I've read 'Thorn Birds'. It was an excellent book." Said Monica, nodding at Rene, breaking the sad spell of the subject.   
  
Rene nodded slightly. "What time is it?" The clock was going slow for some reason. It was half an hour till.   
  
"Let's - " Alex began to say "let's go" when Rene's cell phone rang.  
  
Everybody stopped dead in the track. Rene picked it up. "Hello?"  
  
"Hello, my new widow. Preparing to leave the nest, to pick up the little girl? Well, when you go, deliver some medical equipments for me."  
  
"All right." Rene's voice was even. "What do you need, a first-aid kit?"  
  
"Sure, if you want Donovan to die. Stupid woman." Gatille hissed, "500 cc of O type blood, IV. Cotton balls. Remember, don't come near my place. And tell those agents don't bother to disguise themselves and come."  
  
"Agreed." Rene hung up. The rascal, she thought, warning her as if she doesn't know all about his recognition device.  
  
"Wait a second for me." Rene said to the team, "I have to dress up a little."  
  
When She came back out, the team was stunned. Rene had totally butchered her clothes to make a pinkish skirt and black low-cut top. She also wore fashionable sunglasses and a hair band that left her hair dangling down messily. With seductive air, she looked like an expensive prostitute from top to toe.  
  
Cody gasped. Jake smiled widely. Alex and Monica exchanged laughing glances.  
  
"Are you sure you're not a federal agent?" Cody joked, after a few seconds of pause.  
  
"No, but I was Lady Macbeth in dramatics club." Rene replied, smiling, seeing their reaction. "Let's go." 


	10. Two More Players

"What's his body temperature now?" Asked Gatille as he went in the door. He had just witnessed Frank's team taking Iris away. His humor was not bettered because of it, either.  
  
"40.3." Merrill replied coldly, busy changing Frank's bandage, stained with blood and sweat.   
  
"Damn him." Gatille cursed. He had brought himself trouble when he partnered with Neil. The guy was a nervous wreck. His old gang leader - who was taken down by Donovan - would have made a wonderful partner in torture. Gatille hated him, but he was still marvelous at it: disguise, bribes, cruelty, plan, everything. He was a twisted genius.   
  
"It had gone up." Merrill added, more to herself than to Gatille.  
  
"I know it's up, Merrill! I am not a fool!" Gatille was greatly annoyed.   
  
"Don't you yell at me, Robert!"   
  
"What?" Gatille grabbed her in disbelief. Merrill raising voice at him? Impossible! "Say that again?"  
  
"Don't you yell at me, and let me go!" Merrill tried to get her wrist out, but Gatille was holding on to it to hard.  
  
"Let you go? Don't you think it's a little too late for that?" Gatille's face twitched. "We are in this together, like it or not. We killed this agent together. We killed Neil together. We abducted the girl together."  
  
"Let me go." Merrill was not a timid woman.  
  
"Sure." Gatille released her. He turned around, "Gen!"   
  
Gen came running. "Yes, Mr. Gatille?"   
  
"Guard her for me. Here, five hundred. Don't let her out of this room and no communication whatsoever, you hear?"  
  
"Yes, sir." Gen took the five hundred dollars, bedazzled.  
  
"Robert, don't you dare to this to me!" Merrill yelled at him as Gatille pushed her into a chair.   
  
"You stay here." Gatille went out.  
  
Merrill heaved an angry sigh. But there was nothing she could do. She walked over to Frank and touched his forehead. Her hand refrained from the heat. She wanted to grab some ice and cold water to reduce the fever. At the door, Gen blocked her.  
  
"I am sorry, Miss Merrill, but you cannot go."  
  
"Try to stop me." Merrill tried to force her way out.   
  
Gen didn't resign. "Miss Merrill, it's of no use for you to try. Stay in your seat please."  
  
"You -" Merrill was getting a little suspicious of him. First of all, his grammar changed. Second of all, he sounded different. There was no tangible difference; he simply sounded different, perhaps much smarter and less respectful.  
  
"Mr. Gatille gave me a job, and I intend to do it." He walked over to a pile of clothes including Frank's bloody shirt and jacket. He flipped them around, looking for something. Not finding it, he muttered, "The smart kid took it with him."  
  
"What are you saying?" Merrill felt that something was horribly wrong.  
  
"You be quiet." He commanded, standing there, pondering something.  
  
Merrill now prayed that Robert would come back soon.   
  
  
Robert went down into the street. It was quite empty. Walking a hundred yards away from the warehouse, he saw a woman standing there.  
  
She looked like a prostitute, an impressive prostitute. She was obviously not fresh from the pile. Gatille's mind cautioned him: such a woman should know where to go for rich customers. Can it be an agent in disguise?  
  
He walked up to her in slow but big strides.   
  
She looked at him with bright eyes. "Good evening, dear knight. Would you like to be my first customer tonight?"  
  
Gatille narrowed his eyes in wonder. He didn't recognize this person from the team profiles. This woman has much make-up on, but still… she's not one of them. Yet somehow she looked and even sounded a little familiar.  
  
She seemed to have read his mind. "Hey, you look a little familiar. Have we met before? Or were we made soul mates?" She laughed wildly.  
  
Rene was not sure if this man was the game. She doubted if Robert would leave his nest. Yet the scar, the scary look and the air the man emanated somehow pointed himself out as the target.   
  
"Hey, say," She approached him, "Where is your golden roof?"  
  
"You wouldn't want to know." Gatille said.  
  
She laughed again. "I've seen all kinds of places, believe me. Where is it?"  
  
"What if I say it's a laundry place." Gatille teased.  
  
"Laundry place?" Rene repeated, thinking as she frowned, "So this man is not the one we want?"   
  
Gatille was satisfied with her reaction. He had predicted that the prostitute, being materialistic, would act surprised and iffy. "What? You skeptic?"  
  
Rene wanted to say "no" and "yes" at the same time. Before she could answer, Gatille grabbed her by the arm. "It's not a laundry place, but something filthy of the sort."  
  
"Like what?" Rene asked.  
  
"A warehouse."  
  
Rene's heart skipped. He was it!   
  
Jake's voice came over the headphone, "We've got him. Try to find his name." The second part came from Cody, who was sitting by his computer impatiently, eager to find who this guy was.  
  
Rene laughed at Gatille, "How interesting! I wouldn't miss this for anything in the world!"  
  
Gatille's face twitched at the thought of Merrill seeing this woman. "What's your name?" He asked.  
  
"Tess." She answered, stealing the name from Thomas Hardy.  
  
"Tess?" Gatille looked at her more closely. Did she read Hardy? Average prostitute did not read British authors like that, or name herself after a murderess.  
  
"One of the college boys named me that. Said I killed him. (She laughed) You don't like it?" Rene followed up.  
  
"Nothing of the sort. Let's go."   
  
"Wait, mister. You haven't told me your name yet." She pouted.  
  
"My name is Gatille."   
  
"Gatille. Ooh, French, aren't you, mister? I've heard of Bastille before, and your name rhymes with it! Es tu francais?" She tried to make her French accent as bad as possible. Gatille frowned at the pronunciation.   
  
Enemy or not, he will find out. 


	11. Double Surprise

As Rene walked with Gatille, she listened intensely to the story Cody just found out about Gatille. She couldn't help but to look a little shocked, and thanks to goodness her company was too busy with his own thoughts to notice.  
  
Two of his men would soon follow up to deliver the blood that the cops left at the shop. The blood that would prolong Donovan's life, for now.  
  
Rene looked at Gatille. This was the man Frank had saved in his mission? This was the man who killed Neil? She was overwhelmed, with the irony and admiration for Frank.   
  
According to Cody, the entire case was saved on file. He was very excited, because it maybe a link he could trace to open up Frank's secret file. There was also a videotape that showed how intense was the situation. The team was fascinated by what they did.   
  
"Hey, why can't we have a case like that?" Said Alex.  
  
"It's kind of sensitive." Jakes answered seriously.  
  
"I know, Jake."   
  
They watched as Frank alone stood between the two fronts, yelling like he always did, "Release him or you will regret it!"   
  
"There's some variation to his motto." Cody grinned.  
  
The Frank on tape looked magnificent as the action began. He emptied his bullet, burying them into bodies that fell inevitably.  
  
Two bullets passed by his ear one after another.  
  
"The guy didn't even blink!" Cody exclaimed.   
  
And then they saw the grand moment. Frank turned suddenly and sharply a right angle toward the right and fired at the one holding Robert Gatille captive. The captive had his eyes shut tight. Two seconds after he was free, he started running to the back like hell, obviously scared and traumatized.  
  
All of the eyes gathered on him, all except Monica's.  
  
"Hey, look at that big guy moving toward the left!" She pointed.  
  
"Where?" Alex didn't see. The guy had moved off the screen.  
  
"That guy! With blood all over him. Rewind it, Cody."  
  
"All right." Cody said, not thinking it was that important. His eyes enlarged however, upon seeing him. "There is one other that escaped!"  
  
"But Frank shot him already." Jakes remarked. "I saw him fell earlier."  
  
"Well, he obviously isn't dead." Said Alex. "Cody, check on who he is."  
  
"Gee, Alex, can't you see I am already doing it?" Cody checked. "Name, Big Mike. One of the obscure members of the gang. He was not much of a figure member, but did lots of dark stuff for the team. Sort of like the CIA in our system."  
  
Jake tapped him. "Monica, tell Rene about him. He may be critical."  
  
Monica nodded.  
  
  
Neither Rene nor Gatille was prepared for their big surprise.   
  
Blood flowed EVERYWHERE. Upstairs, downstairs, on the stairs. Rene's heart sank as she prayed that none flowed out of Frank - although a part did belong to him, the part that had already hardened.  
  
But there was fresh, warm, blood everywhere. There were bodies too, about twenty of them. Neil had not lied when he said he had seven men. He simply didn't count Gatille's.   
  
Frank sprang into Gatille's mind as soon as he saw the bloodshed. But as the body count increased, he couldn't help but know that there was someone else. Frank? Even a superman could not kill this many with a hole in his lung and a persistent high fever.  
  
How was Merrill? Where was Gen?   
  
He flew upstairs, wild-eyed, and scarcely remembered Rene. After all, she couldn't be a threat.  
  
Frank was as he left him. Gen was nowhere to be seen. Merrill was dead; her eyes remained open and looked hollow.  
  
Gatille gave a low cry and tested her breath, pulse… nothing.  
  
He stood as a maniac, looking around with clenched teeth. His eyes fell on Donovan.   
  
Suddenly he put a foot on Frank and weighed down, crushing his lung and his chest. Frank turned his head in pain, stirring in his unconscious state. He coughed and blood tried to flow out of his lung, but the foot, it was so heavy… He struggled, his wrist pulling on the handcuff, fingers grasping at the chain. The bed shook. Frank was losing the fight, a rare thing for him. Yet suddenly he felt the weight off him.  
  
Rene was in time. "What do you think are you doing to him?" She yelled, yanking Gatille's leg away. Gatille almost fell flat onto the ground. His head hit a wooden rack and bled.   
  
"Who are you?" His eyes narrowed.  
  
Rene quickly recovered, putting on a slut front. "Who the hell am I? Oh don't you want to know? But who the hell are you, beating up your friend like that?"  
  
"My friend?" Gatille repeated quietly. If he had yelled, Rene would have become calm.  
  
"Yeah! What else can he be? I mean, hey, you've got a modest place here and he has his little share, so what else is he? Your enemy or something?"  
  
Gatille laughed. A Frantic, frightening laugh.  
  
"What you laughing for?"  
  
Gatille dashed out to the computer room.  
  
Rene checked on Frank, who was still coughing weakly but violently. Without Gatille's weight on him, his blood simply flowed, profusely and freely.   
  
Rene shuddered at the sight. She struggled to find his pulse, which was very faint. She examined his bloody wrists till cuffed. Well, that wound was nothing compared with the other one he's got.  
  
As she panicked, she heard him. His eyes were slightly open, and he said something. Rene put her ears next to his lips, "Come on, Frank, what are you saying?"  
  
"Big… Mike…" The words were vague. But having remembered the name from Monica, Rene recognized it. Big Mike?   
  
"Frank, I know who that is. The thing is, the team cannot be here. No one can, all because of the computer system that could detect everything…"  
  
She saw him trying to nod. "So you understand, Frank? Tell me what to do!"  
  
Frank whispered something. She put her ears close to him again.   
  
"Shut … down… the power."   
  
Of course! Why didn't they think of it? If the power went down, then everything would be down, including the security system. Then the team could come to rescue him.  
  
Rene stood up and turned, only to hear a welcome, "Where do you think you're going?" 


	12. Resolution

Rene turned around. Gatille.   
  
His facial muscle was twitching. A horrible grin darkened his face.   
  
"I knew you weren't an ordinary one. What are you? CIA? FBI? Or the Department of Justice, like him?"  
  
"I don't belong to any of those."  
  
"Oh?" He went up to her and grabbed her chin. Rene struggled in vain. "You look very familiar. Wait a second, I think I can recall… of course, you're Neil's wife. Good evening, Mrs. Amis, why aren't you home to enjoy your little girl?"  
  
Rene could not answer.  
  
"That's not important." Gatille threw her onto the bed, next to Frank. He took out a gun and a silencer. "You will die anyways. Pity. You could have lived, but you simply couldn't resist Donovan, could you?"  
  
Rene could not bear it any more. "Shut up and listen to me, you stupid fool! You kill this man, you kill your own savior!"  
  
"My savior? He was no less than my executioner. When they demanded ransom, he valued it more than he did me." Gatille continued his action.  
  
"No, you idiot! He shot the one who was to kill you! He saved your life! You don't believe it? It's on tape."  
  
Gatille stopped. "What tape?"  
  
"Do you believe me or not?"  
  
Gatille looked at her bitterly. He took aim at Frank.  
  
"All right. Consider this: he is a good agent, isn't he?"  
  
Gatille narrowed his eyes.   
  
"All right. Look, he saved Iris."  
  
"The brat. Isn't she his?" Gatille grinned, raising an eyebrow.  
  
"No."  
  
"You lie."  
  
"I am not! Don't you dare say that I lie about Iris's father! I wish she were his, but no. If you don't believe it, that's fine. Go ahead and kill us. Kill him, kill me, and no one is coming to save you from Big Mike."  
  
Gatille's eyes blazed. "Big Mike. How did you know about him?"  
  
"He's the one that killed your girlfriend."  
  
"How did you know?"  
  
Rene looked at the agonized figure on the bed. "Frank told me that."  
  
"Impossible." Gatille lowered the gun and walked toward Frank, bending to scrutinize him.  
  
"Stop right there." A cold, thick voice rang.  
  
An alarm rang in Gatille's head: Gen? He ran a documentary in his head: Neil brought the man, slow but very able and obedient, several times quite crucial to success of a mission. It was odd. How came he never thought of it before?  
  
He turned around, leaving the gun by the bed.  
  
"Glad to see you again, Robert, the rich kid." Gen's face transformed. It looked very cunning and cruel.  
  
Gatille flinched. It was a name that circulated in the gang. So this guy was Big Mike. "Big Mike? How are you? I am very glad to see you."  
  
Big Mike didn't smile. "So how does it feel, rich kid, that you've made a fatal mistake? Drop the act. There is no use exchanging ancient courtesies."   
  
"I understand. Always the rule, eh? Well," he rubbed his chin, "I can tell you that it doesn't feel good, to know that I've gone all this way getting this guy, while he saved me. And to have overlooked you, who was the single force against me."  
  
"Yeah. You are right. And what can I say, you've finished." He raised his gun.   
  
A shot rang in the room. Rene's scream followed. She was shot in the shoulder. Gatille had grabbed her for cover at the last second. He didn't wait for another shot, took out a knife in his pocket and threw it toward Big Mike. Right in the chest.   
  
Big Mike had a look of shock on his face when he fell. Gatille sighed relief, threw aside Rene, and went toward the window. Cars were arriving, the police, the team, and the medical examiners.   
  
Gatille didn't get to see anyone though. He didn't even reach the window when another shot rang out and pierced his heart. He didn't even turn back to look at Big Mike drop his head for the last time.   
  
They received no miracles. 


	13. Miracle talk and Special Thank You

Three months later.   
  
Yes, Frank Donovan, the bad penny, turned up again. The doctors were amazed at what went on in that room. To them, it was no less than a miracle in the history of ER. They were never tired of the story, retold partly by Rene, as the first-hand witnesses/criminals already expired.   
  
"He TALKED your daughter out?"   
  
Anyways…   
  
  
Author's note:   
  
I need to thank Deana a lot for her information on lung punctures. It gave me the title and practically the last chapter. 


End file.
